


This Time Around

by Angeltiny13



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Aged-down, Angst, Bi-curious Seonghwa, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Kim Hongjoong-centric, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Time Travel, he's figuring things out, they're in high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angeltiny13/pseuds/Angeltiny13
Summary: Hongjoong slept on the worn brown leather couch that he’d shared with the others on countless weekends, week nights, and some skipped school days. As he lied there, cheek pressed to the cracked upholstery, he felt every lump and hard edge he’d never noticed before. His head usually rested on the shoulder or lap of a certain Park Seonghwa. His chest clenched, remembering that name.Or the one where Hongjoong realizes he's in love with his best friend who he thought was straight, but is also dealing with the mental toll of constantly time traveling to save everyone. (Inspired by the Fever short film)
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 104





	This Time Around

Hongjoong barely had time to realize how much what they had meant to him before it was snatched away. After spending so long alone, he held these unlikely friends close, like a butterfly in his hands—too tight and he’d crush it, too loose and it’d fly away. When it came down to it, though, he could do nothing but watch as they turned their backs on each other, went their separate ways.

Hongjoong stayed, unable to let go; really, he had nowhere else to turn. He slept on the worn brown leather couch that he’d shared with the others on countless weekends, week nights, and some skipped school days. As he lied there, cheek pressed to the cracked upholstery, he felt every lump and hard edge he’d never noticed before. His head usually rested on the shoulder or lap of a certain Park Seonghwa.

His chest clenched, remembering that name. Though he knew it was pointless, he clicked his phone on, scanned the blank screen, empty of any notifications. He spared himself the torture of looking at Seonghwa’s last message. By now, he’d had it memorized, saw it every time he closed his eyes.

_ Maybe you should just let it go _ .

Perfect. Everything had been perfect. And maybe Hongjoong shouldn’t have been so naive, so hopeful. Maybe he shouldn’t have mistaken the fire over the horizon for the sun. There was no way he could have anticipated the speed with which that fire would reduce everything to ash, leaving nothing but black, scorched earth in its wake. There was no way to prepare for the violent roar of the flames and the deathly still silence that followed. 

The deep oranges and rich reds that poured in from the open door of the warehouse mocked him, colors too vivid for the way his heart bled grey. Despite the way his head pounded from the harsh light, he dozed in and out of sleep, vision blurring. 

A shadow fell over him, blocking the sunset as it approached closer.

Hongjoong rubbed his eyes, quickly sitting up, unsure if he was dreaming. 

The figure was dressed head-to-toe in black, mask covering his face, eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. Though the strange presence felt unsettling, its focused gaze seemed eerily familiar. He stood in front of Hongjoong, watching, silent.

Hongjoong stared back, guarded but not necessarily fearful.

The figure held out a large hourglass, offering it to him.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hongjoong took it. The cold weight cooled his sweaty palms and sent chills up his arms. It glowed a faint blue. Hongjoong looked up, but before he could ask what he was supposed to do with it, a high pitched ringing filled the space until it felt like it was coming from inside his head.

-

Hongjoong jerked awake, nearly falling off the couch. Instinctively, his hands flew out to catch himself, catching the rough fabric of jeans instead of the smooth leather of the couch. That was when he realized what he was really resting on. He looked up to find a wide-eyed Seonghwa watching him, the corner of his mouth tipped in a mix between light concern and amusement.

“You okay?” he asked, lips leaning more toward careful fondness now.

Hongjoong swallowed as he studied the face he’d missed so much—that narrow nose, gently sculpted jaw, full lips, those dark, cryptic yet curious eyes. The center of Hongjoong’s chest threatened to burst; the corners of his eyes stung. He dropped his head back into Seonghwa’s lap and drew in his trembling lip to keep from crying.

“Hey, hey what is it?” His brows knit together in worry. Seonghwa hesitated, eyes conflicted, before brushing Hongjoong’s fringe from his forehead. 

Hongjoong just shook his head, relief boiling into frustration. How had he not noticed earlier? How could he have called the fluttering in his stomach when they first met by any other name? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the sound of the others—the rattle of the chain net, the bounce of the basketball against concrete, rhythmic steps, laughter. It was all background noise as he lost himself in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“I’m okay,” Hongjoong managed to mutter.

Seonghwa doesn’t look like he believes him, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he sat back and continued to read, glancing at Hongjoong every so often. He held the book in one hand, the other idly draped on Hongjoong’s shoulder. It was touch for the sake of touch, weightless, natural.

Hongjoong tried to pace his breathing. He turned on his side, scanned the space and saw the others where they’d always been, together and getting along. Jongho played basketball with Yeosang. Wooyoung was teaching San a step sequence. Mingi tapped away at the laptop while Yunho stood behind him, pointing something out on the screen. 

The basketball rolled over to the couch, but Jongho didn’t grab it. Hongjoong felt like he was seeing deja vu.

That’s when the shouting started.

Hongjoong bolted upright to see what was going on, while Seonghwa dropped his book. They rushed over to the chaos but it felt as if moving through tar. Time slowed as Jongho caught Mingi’s jaw with his fist, San and Wooyoung tried to hold him back, Yeosang tried talking to Mingi, and Yunho stood on the outside, dazed eyes filled with tears. 

The high pitched ringing returned to Hongjoong’s head, drowning out the desperate shouts and angry cries. A soft blue glow appeared in his periphery. He rushed toward it before he had to watch Mingi storm out and Seonghwa go after him only to be shoved to the ground.

Hongjoong dived on his knees to the makeshift coffee table, snatched the hourglass and flipped it over. The glow brightened to a blinding light that filled the space and pierced his eyes. The glass was so cold it burned, causing Hongjoong to drop it. The sound of metal against concrete echoed like thunder.

-

Inhaling a quick breath, Hongjoong startled awake. Slowly, he straightened in the metal folding chair he found himself sitting in. Blinking away the leftover sleep, he took in the empty warehouse. Indigo twilight and the balmy spring air slipped through the crack of the open door. 

The hinges creaked as someone opened it further and slipped in. “You’re here early,” Seonghwa noted, walking over to Hongjoong with that easy elegance, a smile tugging at his cheeks.

Hongjoong tangled his jittery fingers together. “Y- yeah. So are you.” He tapped his foot, swallowed a shaky breath, as realization settled on him like a cold sweat. He remembered this day all too well, saw the script of this scene all too clearly. A buzz ran from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. He felt trapped, but he had to do something this time. He just had no idea what.

Seonghwa grabbed a coke from the mini fridge they’d found in the surrounding junkyard, then hopped onto the table Hongjoong was at. He crossed his ankles, swung his legs back and forth.

And Hongjoong asked again, the question he’d ask the first time, even though he knew the answer would hurt. “What’s got you so happy?” He tried with everything in him to keep his voice neutral and steady. “Looks like you met someone or something.”

Seonghwa laughed, a thin, breathy exhale. He twisted the cap, releasing the low fizzy whistle. 

Hongjoong fixated on the way the bubbles rose but didn’t burst free. He felt his own chest constrict.

“I did actually,” Seonghwa said, then took a sip. 

One, two, three gulps, Hongjoong counted, watching the way his throat bobbed from the effort. He knew this was the moment he fucked himself over, started wanting things he couldn’t have, started denying ever wanting said things. Seonghwa was his friend, but he wasn’t like the others. Hongjoong knew because the next words out of Seonghwa’s mouth were what pulled the pin on a grenade Hongjoong had no idea was buried within him.

“I saw her at the convenience store.”

_ Her.  _

Hongjoong hummed, grabbed his phone so he wouldn’t have to look at Seonghwa. “She must’ve been pretty,” he mumbled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Seonghwa shrug. Maybe Hongjoong should call Mingi to see why he would be late today.

“She was dancing on the sidewalk...like no one was watching.” His words floated in the empty space, wistful and delicate like a kite. 

Hongjoong stood, paced the floor, still staring at his phone, forcing himself to move before he made things worse than last time. Maybe he’d been the cause of the split. Maybe if he wasn’t such a goddamn coward he could fix things. Maybe if he wasn’t so selfish and insecure and  _ scared _ , he could—

“Hongjoong-ah?” Seonghwa touched his shoulder, making Hongjoong jump.

He didn’t turn around, only muttered, “I’m gonna call Mingi,” and went to sit on the couch. The phone rang but there was no answer. He tried again. Still no answer, just an automated voicemail and a cold, lifeless beep. He felt the pressure of Seonghwa’s eyes on him; he couldn’t breathe under his gaze, couldn’t think straight. But he needed to think straight. He needed to keep everyone together. 

Hongjoong slammed his phone into the couch cushion, ran his fingers through his hair as his legs shook. He snatched his phone up again. He called Yunho, Jongho, and everyone else but none of them had neither seen nor heard from Mingi and was confused why Hongjoong seemed so concerned when they’d all be at the warehouse later anyway. His phone buzzed. A text from Mingi.

_ gonna be late _

Just like before. Even though he knew a reply was unlikely Hongjoong texted back, asking why. Mingi was reserved, an enigma, a big guy with a threatening face but tired eyes. He’d been opening up recently but he still had moments where he retreated back into himself. He’d put on his earbuds and block them all out. None of them pressured him to talk, simply waited for when he was ready to bloom again.

The others started to arrive and Hongjoong watched everything play out just as it did before. It was like watching a thriller you’d seen a million times but still jumping at every twist. He felt both a part of it as a player who knew all the words and a passive watcher, screaming at them to not make the same mistakes. 

Nothing worked.

No matter what he changed they still ended up on that same day when everything had gone to shit. And every single time he flipped the hourglass, turned back time, he had to hear Seonghwa fawn over meeting some girl and try not to react in any way that would ruin their friendship. Over and over and over again.

So many times until his attempts blurred together in some sort of horrific mess of ink that stained every part of him. He lost track of time, lost track of what happened when, and if it even mattered. Changing his actions or words never amounted to much more than a rock in the road instead of the reroute he so desperately sought. 

He tried to make sure everyone was happy; he tried to listen, to offer advice, to look out for them in any way he could. But Hongjoong couldn’t be everywhere at once. It was never enough.

He tried every scenario he could think of, but he could never travel before that day he’d grown to hate more than anything. The anger and frustration and utter  _ helplessness  _ ate at him like gluttonous parasites.

His skin was alight with what felt like millions of fire ants crawling up and down his arms, his legs, his spine. His blood pulsed in his fingertips; his temples throbbed. How many times has it been? How many times had he watched his friends leave? How many times had he been abandoned? He couldn’t- he couldn’t-

“Hongjoong-ah—”

“Leave me alone!” Hongjoong screamed. Instantly, the regret shocked him like hot water on frostbitten skin. He couldn’t handle the hurt that tore across Seonghwa’s face. Hongjoong turned away, dropped to his knees, buried his face in his hands, as a garbled string of apologies fell from his quivering lips. He inhaled as if coming up from underwater, but it felt more like drowning. The exhale stuttered, yanking a sob from his gut. 

Hongjoong felt Seonghwa’s arms try to embrace him, but Hongjoong pushed against the older boy’s chest, weak but insistent. “D- don’t touch me,” he choked out.

“Okay, okay. I just- Joong, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” His voice wavered, terrified.

“I can’t—” Another sob cut him off. He couldn’t see through the globs of tears, couldn’t hear over the pounding in his head. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” He shook his head, covering his ears.

“Can’t what? Joong, please...talk to me,” Seonghwa said, voice hitching as if on the verge of tears himself. 

“I can’t,” Hongjoong whispered. 

“Why?”

Hongjoong whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to accept that such a pathetic sound had come from him. 

“Hongjoong, at least…” he took a deep breath, “at least let me hold you, until you calm down. Will you let me do that?”

Hongjoong held his cries in his throat, then nodded. As soon as he felt Seonghwa’s arms surround him and his chest against his back, though, he couldn’t hold them back anymore. The raw, unfiltered pain of his weeping sounded unrecognizable, almost feral. 

Seonghwa tightened his grasp around Hongjoong, rested his chin on his head as he rocked them back and forth. 

Hongjoong twisted his fingers in Seonghwa’s sleeves, trying to anchor himself, trying to relax in an embrace he’d craved for longer than he’d realized. He felt fractured, useless, beyond repair, but Seonghwa held him like he was something precious and that only hurt more. It stoked the spark he’d tried so hard to stifle into a flame in the pit of his stomach. It encouraged the hope of the impossible. 

He dropped his forehead against Seonghwa’s arms, wishing he could hide or, better yet, disappear. He didn’t know if he could do this again. Why did they choose him? Why did they expect him to be able to fix this when he couldn’t even face the boy that cradled him? 

His sobs left him weak and exhausted, as if he’d been hit by a hurricane. They softened to quiet whines and tired sniffles. He raised his head, noticed the way he ruined Seonghwa’s sleeves. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m...not strong or brave enough, not- not-” his voice caught on leftover tears, “I’m not enough.” He felt Seonghwa flinch against his back.

“Hongjoong...”

The way Seonghwa said his name was like a hammer against crystal. Hongjoong wanted so bad to accept his comfort but every passing moment in his arms threatened to break the dam holding back his feelings. He wanted to let Seonghwa be there for him but he was afraid he’d want too much and scare Seonghwa away. 

“Hongjoong, can you look at me?”

After a moment, Hongjoong turned around, making sure Seonghwa kept his arms around him. He swallowed. They were close, only a hair’s breadth apart, but it felt like a chasm.

Seonghwa’s eyes were misty—scared, worried, searching Hongjoong’s own. “Hongjoong, I—” He closed his mouth. His jaw clenched, as his stormy eyes continued staring into Hongjoong’s. A wrinkle formed between his brows as if he’d reached some sort of resolve. “You are the strongest, bravest person I know.” His words were sincere, but it felt as if he were forcing them out, forcing them past what sounded like fear or uncertainty. “You- you have no idea how much you’ve helped me.” 

He paused, waiting for something. Then his eyes softened. “You are captivating in every way.”

It was quieter than a whisper and had Hongjoong not been so close he would have doubted ever hearing those words. “What?” he squeaked. 

“I don’t know what you’re going through, but,” he leaned forward until their foreheads pressed together, “I wish you’d lean on me.”

The breath that carried those words felt sweet and warm on Hongjoong’s lips, but he still felt so, so scared. He still had so much doubt dripping like rotten honey from his lungs. “Seonghwa, I don’t think I can.” He was surprised with how steady his voice was.

“Why?”

Hongjoong blinked at his firm tone, as if he dared Hongjoong to run, to lie, to keep hiding. He leaned back, tried to push on Seonghwa’s arms, but his hold only tightened. “I just- I’m not- You’re not…”

“Not what? What do you know about me that I don’t?”

Hongjoong stopped squirming, caught by the sharp retort and the electricity in Seonghwa’s stare. He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know what to say. Or rather, he knew what he wanted to say but didn’t know if he could. The more he stared back though, the sillier those reservations seemed. What did he really honestly know about Seonghwa? The weight of his touch made him question everything.

“Why can’t you rely on me, Hongjoong?” he pressed.

“Because I want to too much,” he blurted. He looked down at his hands.“I want  _ you  _ too much,” he muttered. 

Seonghwa’s arms relaxed. His hands trailed up Hongjoong’s arms, from his elbows to his shoulders, from his neck to cup his jaw. He raised Hongjoong’s head. 

Their eyes met and Hongjoong wanted to cry all over again, when he saw the sad smile on Seonghwa’s face, the tears collecting in the corner of his eyes.

“For you, there’s no such thing as too much.”

“What about,” Hongjoong licked his lips, “what about her?”

“Who?” Seonghwa tilted his head, genuinely confused.

“The girl...at the convenience store.” Hongjoong hated the way he sounded right now, but he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy in his gut that begged to be answered.

A light of understanding flashed across Seonghwa’s eyes. His thumbs rubbed agonizingly slow circles over Hongjoong’s skin, and Hongjoong hoped he knew how much power he had right now. He had essentially placed his bleeding heart in Seonghwa’s hands, and prayed he wouldn’t drop it, or worse, give it back.

“She reminded me of you,” Seonghwa said.

“Huh?”

Seonghwa exhaled a light laugh through his nose. He leaned in again, nudged Hongjoong’s forehead with his own. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For not being honest. I was scared.” Their noses brushed but neither backed away.

“Of what?” 

“Of being too much.” A helpless smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I was scared because I’m still figuring myself out and didn’t want to risk losing you because of that. You deserve someone who’s certain about who they are.”

“Are you...” Hongjoong hesitated, hoping he was reading everything right, before going on, “Are you certain about me?”

“Yes,  _ god, yes _ ,” Seonghwa rushed.

“Then that’s enough.”

Their eyes locked. Hongjoong reached up and touched the line of Seonghwa’s jaw with his fingertips, feeling the muscle jump. 

“Can I show you,” Seonghwa’s gaze dipped to Hongjoong’s lips, “how certain I am?”

Hongjoong couldn’t nod fast enough before his mouth was covered with Seonghwa’s. His kiss was earnest, determined, desperate, leaving Hongjoong stunned for a moment. He did nothing but focus on the feeling, trying to understand everything Seonghwa was trying to convey through the contact. 

Seonghwa pulled away, eyes wide and manic. He swiped his tongue over his reddened bottom lip, looked at Hongjoong as if he were his last supper. 

Hongjoong dropped his hand from Seonghwa’s jaw, instead twisting his shirt between his fingers and tugging him forward. He tried to be patient, to savor the taste, but it was too rich, too addicting to deny. Angling his head, he caught more of Seonghwa’s mouth with his own. Hongjoong didn’t realize how much he needed this, needed him, until they clung to each other, fierce in their hold. 

No sooner did they come up for air did they dive in again, eager to reach new depths. Seonghwa’s grip dropped from Hongjoong’s neck to his hips, as he leaned forward. He tugged at Hongjoong’s bottom lip with his teeth, until he drew an indulgent gasp from him “It’s only you,” he whispered into Hongjoong’s open mouth, before thrusting his tongue in.

Somewhere amidst the television static that was his mind, Hongjoong registered how much he loved Seonghwa’s large hands holding him down. He felt safe, like Seonghwa would fight the powers that be for him but also like Hongjoong had the strength to fight with him. Draping his arms over Seonghwa’s shoulders, Hongjoong dipped his tongue in and out, sampling every part of Seonghwa’s mouth. He still tasted like the syrupy sweetness of coke. 

Hongjoong swallowed a yelp when he felt himself be lifted all of a sudden. Without breaking the kiss, Seonghwa carried him over to the couch, laid him on his back. He couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t want to if it meant he had to stop kissing Seonghwa. 

When Seonghwa did eventually slow, he whined, unashamed of his neediness. Seonghwa made him shameless the moment he said he’d never be too much. Still, he squeezed his eyes closed when the older boy sucked on his tongue, then peppered a kiss that was entirely too innocent on Hongjoong’s cherry-bruised lips. 

He placed butterfly-light pecks on Hongjoong’s eyelids. “Look at me,” he whispered in that velvet dark tone that made Hongjoong’s heart pick up its already dangerous pace.

Panting, Hongjoong opened his eyes and his breath tripped over itself. Despite how wrecked he was sure he looked, Seonghwa somehow still looked perfect, cheeks flushed a scarlet-gold glow, which did nothing but heighten this intense need to ruin and be ruined by such perfection. It made him feel powerful after feeling weak for so long. He rubbed his thighs together, unable to deny the want boiling inside him. 

Seonghwa pressed insistent kisses to Hongjoong’s lips, dragged his tongue across his jawline, nipped at his earlobe. After popping the first couple buttons on Hongjoong’s shirt, he dropped his head to the junction between Hongjoong’s neck and shoulder. Seonghwa sucked and lapped and bit at the skin, pulling the most wanton gasps and moans from him. 

Hongjoong tugged on the hair at Seonghwa’s nape, ran his hand through the brown waves, while Seonghwa’s fingers laced between the fingers of his free hand. Hongjoong squeezed his hand back as Seonghwa continued to leave rose-violet bruises across his neck, shoulder, and collarbone. It wasn’t fair how easily Seonghwa could pluck such obscene sounds from him, sounds he didn’t know he was capable of making. 

Hongjoong was one point of contact away from screaming from the overwhelming pleasure, one touch away from crying out of relief. At the thought, he noticed his cheeks were already damp.

Seonghwa licked away the tears without hesitation. “It’s okay now. You’re okay now,” he crooned, kissing him long and deep. 

Hongjoong took his hand from his hair and ran it up and down Seonghwa’s side, his blissed out mind too tangled to form sentences. A fragile “Seonghwa,” escaped him like a breath. His hand dropped to the older boy’s belt, thumb dipping into his pants. He dragged his hand under his shirt, making Seonghwa shiver on top of him.

“Joong,” Seonghwa gasped. He propped himself up on his hands and knees, stared Hongjoong down. His expression was open and full and teetering on the edge of brazenly carnal. 

Hongjoong bit his lip, fisted Seonghwa’s collar in his small hand. “I need you,” he whined quietly.

Seonghwa’s eyes darkened and he leaned down.

The sound of gravel under rubber and the whir of an engine interrupted them before they could explore all the ways Hongjoong needed him.

Instead of going in for another kiss, Seonghwa let his head rest on Hongjoong’s shoulder, huffing hot breaths against his skin.

Hongjoong tried to catch his own breath as well as his already frail composure.

“The others are here,” Seonghwa whispered.

Hongjoong hummed. 

Seonghwa sat up and offered both hands for Hongjoong to take. He pulled until Hongjoong was sitting up, then kissed him quick.

Despite the position they were both just in, Hongjoong feels his cheeks flush. His lips were so sweet and gentle and the soft smile on his face splashed in the puddle that was Hongjoong’s brain. 

Still holding his hands, Seonghwa asked, “How are you feeling?”

Hongjoong took a deep breath that finally reached his abdomen. “Better.” Despite the exhaustion, he really did mean it.

The others barreled through the warehouse door, already deep in excited conversation, and Seonghwa kept holding Hongjoong’s hands in his lap. He turned to tell them not to drink all the coke from the fridge. They pretended not to hear as Yunho tossed everyone a bottle.

Hongjoong watched Seonghwa, amazed, but also upset with himself for bottling everything up. He stared at their joined hands. Would this change the timeline? Would it keep everyone together? Would he be able to save them now that he wasn’t alone in his efforts? There was no way to know, except to ride this timeline out. Even if he did end up having to go back again, he wouldn’t change what he did this time around. 

**Author's Note:**

> Woo ok, this is finally out of my head and now you all can cry with me. It came to me after seeing THAT Seongjoong moment in the Fever short film and was inspired by Steins;Gate. Time travel takes a toll and who better to catch Joong when he breaks than Seonghwa? He is essentially the Makise Kurisu to Hongjoong's Okabe Rintaro. Please let me know what y'all think, especially because I'm trying to get better at makeout scenes. I've been struggling for some reason. Regardless, hope you enjoyed. Leave comments and kudos.
> 
> Side note: If you're following my other work Drowning to Breathe, I am so sorry there's no update this week. My laptop konked out on me for the 3rd time now and I can't get access to my docs. I'm trying my best to get everything back asap. So, this fic is also kind of an apology/ snack to hold you over. Thanks for sticking with me! :)
> 
> I know things are crazy on atiny twitter right now, but please be respectful and kind to others. I hope you can escape for even a little bit by reading my work. If you wanna chat, my username is @angeltiny13   
> See y'all next time!


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